Cloning Frenzy
by Crazy Queen 101
Summary: Galatea wasn't the only clone... I beg of thee, REVIEW!(please?)


**Cloning Frenzy**

Summary: Galatea wasn't the only clone…

Disclaimer: Don't own it. But I could if I tried hard enough...wait...nope. No chance. I HATE YOU PEOPLE!

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Batman/Bruce Wayne will be age 40. I don't know how accurate that is, so screw it. :)

It still disturbed some members of the league that Supergirl was cloned. It also disturbed the members when they found out that the same clone disappeared after failing to beat Supergirl. The paranoid members, namely Batman and The Question, became more paranoid, and they decided to do some extensive research, by themselves, of course.

Batman spent hours in the Batcave, trying to hack into the S.T.A.R Labs mainframe, with no real success. Unless you call members of staff playing Spider Solitaire on off-duty a good thing success. With the occasional visit from Alfred, Batman asked him who would be most likely to be cloned.

"Have you considered _yourself, _sir?" asked the British butler, pouring a cup of tea. Batman pulled off his cowl and wiped his face with a towel that Alfred brought down for him.

"No, I haven't," said Bruce, groaning at the possibilities. "Why would they want to clone _me_?" He groaned again, this time thinking on who else in the League that could be cloned. "I have no powers…that's the only motive that they would have."

Bruce thought out loud. "Whoever was cloned was knocked out long enough to take the necessary DNA samples. So that doesn't really help me because we've all been knocked flat and out at least twice a week. Or often than that."

Alfred poured a cup of tea for himself, carefully mixing the sugar in. (Lemon tea is the GRATEST! )

"Maybe a knockout is not required to get the necessary DNA samples," contemplated Alfred, taking another sip of lemon tea.

Bruce groaned once again.

"Back to square one."

8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8()8

"Is she stable yet?" Waller demanded, barging into the chromium plated laboratory, squeezing through the door, her hips not quite in concordance with the size of the doorway. Hamilton held back a well-deserved smirk.

"She will be in a matter of hours," stated Dr. Hamilton, making check marks on a silver clipboard that lay next to the semi-conscious figure. "This clone seems to be quite stable…not at all like the Ultimen, her life span should be at least 20 years."

Waller stared at the figure. She was much younger than the original, and 15 years was a bit of a difference. She'd be around to kick other members of the Batclan around…And to top it all off, one of the Ultimen's powers, namely Downpour, had been infused into her bloodstream, with much opposition from Hamilton, but the vision of Waller sitting on him for not following her orders lingered somewhere in the back of his mind.

"It was sheer luck that I got his hair sample from my towel. He's getting sloppy." Waller was talking to the Members of the Project CADMUS.

Her eyes darted to Doctor Hamilton. "Is she awake yet?"

He gave her a swift nod. "The memories are being implanted as we speak."

888

"How is he?" asked Diana. It was two weeks since the transportation of Doomsday to the Phantom Zone (correct me if I'm wrong). Bruce was healing fine, though according to Flash, he was acting slightly "concussed", as his biting sarcasm didn't bite quite as hard. Though it still bit.

It was also two weeks since the "birth" of Waller's "third child"- Evelyn Wayne- the cast off sister of billionaire Bruce Wayne, who had convinced his parents to fly her off to Japan, where she learned 7 lethal types of kung fu. She had also learned of her brother's success and wealth, which was "stolen" from her- as her parents had left it all to her before they were killed. She knew of his double life, as Gotham City's own Batman, and she had taken it upon herself to make sure he was dead as soon as possible. She lived in Gotham Acres, owned by Wayne himself, in the apartment that Waller had fully paid for, without her knowledge, of course.

"You're awake," said Hamilton, stepping into the room.

Evelyn's eyes slit in anger at the invasion.

"Who are you?" she demanded, sitting up, ready to spring to attack.

"I'm Doctor Hamilton," he paused as he tried to remember the story he had to recite. "I've been taking care of you since the assassination attempt, 18 months ago. Your life was hanging by a thread. You were in a coma; we didn't expect you to live."

Evelyn's tense frame relaxed as she fell back onto the pillows.

"Did my brother hire the assassin?" The anger that was rising slowly but surely in her voice was quite apparent, leading Hamilton to the reality that Batman needed some anger management classes. And as soon as possible.

"Yes, he did. Deadshot was hired to kill you, but the shot to your heart wasn't too critical. When we brought him in for questioning, he told us that he was paid 96.6 million dollars, but since you weren't killed…there was a drastic reduction in price."

Hamilton thought that he would have roasted in Hell for all eternity, just for the lies he told in that hour alone.

"Where is he?" she demanded angrily. Anger management was definitely in the books for her.

"He is currently at the Justice League Watchtower. I don't think you will be able to get him there. You will have to wait until he restarts patrol in Gotham City. If you want to see him that badly, I suggest you target one of his clan…Nightwing, perhaps, to get him out of the shadows."

Evelyn straightened, getting out of the bed.

"Where are my clothes?"

Hamilton thought that Waller's DNA was also in her…Only she had the ability to demand _that_ much in that short period of time.

"We took the courtesy of buying you some new clothes; the old ones were a bit bloody anyway."

She went over to what seemed to be a closet and opened it.

There was a pair of black jeans, black leather boots and a black top, with a yellow insignia in the shape of a bat on it. She grabbed them and went into the bathroom that was next to her room.

The bathroom was quaint, in comparison to the metallic luster of everything else around. It had the basics- a toilet, a sink, a mirror.

She looked at herself carefully in the mirror. She hated looking so much like Bruce. She found a comb and ran it through her long, black hair. It was long, resting a short distance above her knees (yes. That long). Hamilton did not know what to account the length for, but pinned it on Downpour. He decided that anything that went wrong would be blamed on Downpour. He was dead anyway. And it was Waller's idea to do the DNA infusion anyway. He was in the clear…for now.

She stared aimlessly into the mirror. Her eyes were clear ice blue. She loved her eyes. Their color and intensity provided for an excellent glare. She combed he hair through and commenced braiding.

She exited the bathroom, looking like a female Bruce Wayne more than ever, since she was out of the hospital gown and in plainclothes.

"What's the quickest way to Gotham from here?"

And with Hamilton's response, she was out of there.

**Crazy Queen here! Hope you like it. Suggestions are _extremely_ (note the emphasis) welcome, as I am fresh out. Oh, and prospective flames will be disregarded and used to roast marshmallows**.


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